


Something Given, Something Earned

by Loveless_Angel (orphan_account)



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arranged Marriage, Jotunn!Loki, M/M, Thunderfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Loveless_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A gift from the All-Father as a symbol of good faith to the new king. He is yours to do with as you please." Loki finds himself being betrayed by his father, and offered up as Thor's plaything with no way of escape.</p><p>**Discontinued until further notice**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everything had been preordained, and Loki had never suspected a thing.

The God of Mischief, of Trickery, being  _tricked_. The mere thought was repulsing and an embarrassment. He never thought that he would see the day where his own  _father_  sent him off to be a prize for a simple-minded Asgardian prince. No, he wasn't even important enough to be called a prize. A tool to unite Asgard and Jotunheim under a reign of peace; a  _gift,_ an object so despised he was only useful for a good barter.

Loki's father – no, he couldn't even be called a father anymore –  _Laufey_ , had claimed that Loki was to travel to Asgard and negotiate the return of the Casket of Ancient Winters. Loki had seen this as a chance to finally prove himself worthy; to make his  _father_  proud. He was so eager to perform the given task that the Jotun prince had overlooked the possible hidden meanings behind the assignment, and what might happen. It was an irrational mistake.

Loki arrived with two Jotuns chosen by Laufey himself, by use of the Bifrost. Just the manner of transport should have warned him of the potential danger he was in. But Loki paid it no mind. Instead, he was far too focused on the task at hand. He had been reckless and idiotic, so fixated on his assignment that anything potentially threatening wasn't even given a second thought. Heimdell - the all-seeing Gate-Keeper - was waiting for them, as were four burly Asgardian guards and the All-Father himself.

Odin All-Father should have been the second warning that something was amiss, though Loki had barely registered his general appearance as a threat. Such a fool he was, to think that.

His Jotun brothers led him forward, moving in uncomfortably close to Loki's sides. Loki did not realize why until he saw a pair of shackles dangling loosely in one guard's hand. He felt the restrictive magic pulsating sickeningly from the metal contraption and stopped dead in his tracks. But it was too late to sneak out of this particular trap.

The Jotuns gripped Loki's forearms in an iron hold and forcefully held his hands out. No matter how much Loki struggled, he could not escape, and the cuffs were attached to his wrists.

Their effect was immediate. The magic that had flowed through his veins slowly dissipated into nothing, leaving Loki feeling weak and light-headed. He fell to his knees, a belittling and humiliating position for a prince such as himself to be forced into. The gold of the cuffs contrasted harshly against his blue Jotun skin.

Loki's so-called "brothers" left him and returned home without so much as a backward glance, leaving the small mischief-maker to be hauled in a patronizing way into the halls of Asgard's great, golden palace. There was nothing he could do to escape. His magic was sealed off, brute guards surrounded him, the All-Father leading them through a maze of gold corridors. When somebody happened to pass by, they would automatically stop in their tracks, move over to the side of the hall, and bow deeply until they had made their way. Whether they respected or feared the All-Father, Loki could not tell. Perhaps it was both, or neither.

Loki himself was opting for the latter.

They eventually reached a set of doors at the end of a dimly lit hallway. All the guards but one peeled away and strode back the way they had come, boots clicking obnoxiously against the polished floor. The one guard remaining opened the doors, stepped aside for Odin and Loki to enter, then silently closed the door behind them.

Loki watched carefully from the doorway as Odin made his way down a small set of stairs, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. The man wandered the room slowly, orbiting an empty, circular table in the middle. He looked weary as he stopped and looked out a tall, narrow window, up at the night sky.

"Do you know why it is that you are here, Jotun prince?" The All-Father's voice was soft, yet it rang out around the room like a bell – clear and precise. He still gazed out the window.

Loki silently stepped down the stairs in a slow and deliberate fashion. He answered only out of pride, his voice as soft as the king's, but not as strong; it was nothing more than a whisper. "I have a hunch."

The All-Father was silent for a heartbeat, then slowly turned to face Loki, one blue eye looking him up and down, as if reading everything that he possibly could about the trickster. "May I hear it?"

It was only out of fear that Loki held in an exasperated sigh and kept himself still as the king of Asgard made his way closer. "An arranged marriage, I assume," Loki said softly, as if he were even afraid to say it aloud, as if it would seal his fate were he to utter those three words. "Jotunheim and Asgard must have peace, after all. If not a marriage to unite the two realms…" His gaze, which had been directed at the floor, shot up to the All-Father, who stood no more than three arm's lengths away. "Then a trade – myself for the Casket of Ancient Winters. Perhaps even both of these are to occur."

Humor twinkled in Odin's single eye, the corners of his lips twitching in a refrained smile. "An intelligent boy, Laufey has. You will make a fine gift for my son – perhaps you may even cancel out some of his hard-headedness." The All-Father suddenly stepped forward and pressed three fingers to Loki's forehead, making him freeze up.

It felt exactly when his magic was taken from him – the feeling of something being leeched from beneath his skin. In fact, it  _was_  his skin. The blue was fading into a soft pink like that of an  _Aesir_ , starting at his fingertips, toes, and forehead and slowly crawling towards the center of his chest until it faded away all together.

Piercing green eyes stared, shocked, up at the All-Father, thin black eyebrows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. Very slowly, Loki looked down upon his body, the familiar blue hue and the raised Jotun markings vanished from their usual places. His fingertips lightly skimmed over his chest, arms, neck, face, anything they could touch, as if searching for what was no longer there. His horns had even disappeared, the realization of that simple fact almost enough to make him fall to his knees. But the trickster didn't budge.

Loki was distracted by his current appearance. He hadn't noticed that Odin had left, and was now returning with a bundle of green and black cloth folded neatly in his hands.

"Some proper garments," he said simply, setting the pile of clothing on the table, then moving towards Loki and removing the shackles from around his wrists; Loki still couldn't feel his magic. Odin then made his way to the door. "In ten minutes, a guard shall arrive to escort you to the throne room." The king then slipped into the hallway and the sound of a lock echoed around the empty room.

Loki stood where he was for a few moments before nearly collapsing to the floor, lurching forward and barely catching himself on the table. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks but the trickster held them back and stood straight. If he were to become the pet of the Asgardian prince, then he would do so with dignity, and not like a blubbering, helpless fool.

With that in mind, he let his simple Jotun clothing fall to the floor and took up a pair of black leather trousers. He held them in front of his face, examining them closely and thoroughly before slipping them over his legs. A rather simple vest followed, then a jacket of some sorts layered with leather, black and green cloth, and along with small squares of silver inlaid in several places. With everything in place, all Loki could think of was to just sit and wait for Odin's aforementioned guard.

He didn't find himself waiting for long, though had enough time to discover that his magic was still out of reach to him; still no hopes of escaping. Even if he _could_  escape, however, Loki had no place to run to.

So, he obediently followed the guard out of the room, not even flinching as a thin silver circlet was strapped around his throat – another magic suppressor. They soon reached the throne room, and Loki was harshly shoved inside, almost losing his footing at the top of a set of stairs, barely able to catch himself from falling. Once he stood straight and steady he looked around

The throne room looked like much of the palace – gold plating every surface, amber fires dancing in their holds on shining columns. The only difference was that the air in this room felt warmer, almost more friendly, and it was empty, save for two people standing up by the throne. Loki automatically assumed them to be the queen and prince. He simply stood at the top of the stairs, waiting to be acknowledged. The trickster didn't have to wait long, the queen spotting him and waving him over.

There was nothing Loki could do but obey. He silently slid down the steps and across the large, empty expanse of the room to stop at the base of two more sets of stairs on the other side. The prince held a small, lazy smile to his lips, crimson cape swaying softly as he turned to look at Loki. The queen's smile was softer, more kind, her hands clasped gracefully in front of her.

Both were looking down on him.

It was degrading, something Loki loathed with all of his being. But he could do nothing about it – nothing but stand and behave. How desperately he wished to leave this place, to escape from this golden hell he'd been forced into. Without his magic, however, he was nearly useless.

The queen stepped down one set of stairs to stop at a landing between the two small staircases. "This is him?" she breathed, pride running deep in her calm voice. "He certainly is a beauty." She looked over at the blonde prince, whose smile faltered slightly. Loki held back a sneer and directed his gaze at the floor.

"Mother, who is this?" Loki heard heavy footfalls on the steps and the swish of a cape. "Do you have a name?"

The trickster almost scoffed, biting his tongue at the last second. One slip-up and they might throw him out. So he played nice, forcing himself to bow slightly from the waist up. "I am called Loki, my prince. It is a great honor to be in your presence, as well as the Queen's." Every word after his name was a lie being driven through his teeth. He could practically feel the prince's eyes boring into his skull.

"State your business here, Loki." The prince's voice was commanding, strong – like his father's.

Loki came up from his bow, slowly straightening his back but keeping his gaze pointed at the steps in front of him. It was the queen that spoke.

"Your father offers him as a gift for your upcoming coronation." Her voice was laced with pride, and Loki did not have to look up to know that her head was held high. "He is yours to do with as you please." Even as she spoke, Loki's eyebrows knitted together and his shoulders unconsciously sagged in defeat. He stole a glance up at the prince, whose smile had disappeared and was replaced with a stony expression.

"And if I do not wish to have him?" came the prince's pointed reply. Loki's eyes dropped back to the floor. The circlet around his neck suddenly felt exceedingly restricting.

"Thor, you must," the queen pressed. Her tone was urgent; commanding, but still soft. "This is your father's gift to you, as a symbol of good faith. You must accept."

All was silent for a long moment before there were heavy footsteps coming down the last set of stairs. Loki found himself staring at a slightly worn pair of black and grey boots. He saw a large, calloused hand reach out and touch his chin, lifting his face upwards to be exposed to the two of royalty. The prince still wore a small frown on his face. Loki refused to make eye contact.

After several minutes of silence Thor dropped his chin and forcefully turned Loki around to face the doors. "As you wish, Mother. Come Loki." The prince started walking away, and Loki followed obediently, glaring intently at Thor's shoes.

He did not once break his eyes away from Thor's heels, even after they stepped into what Loki assumed to be the prince's bedchambers. The lighting was poor, only coming from a small fireplace set into a far wall. Loki did not move from the door until Thor had verbally called him over. When he did, the trickster slowly moved to the couch in which Thor sat, standing behind him.

"Yes, my prince?" He had to force himself not to sound disrespectful – who knew what punishment would fall onto Loki's shoulders were he to dishonor the crown prince of Asgard.

"Where do you hail from?" was his question. Simple enough, seemingly innocent, though Loki did not want to answer. He would have lied, but didn't have his magic to get him out if the lie were to turn back on him.

The truth was all he could offer, in a soft voice not unlike a whisper. "Jotunheim, your highness…"

As to be expected, Thor turned in his seat to look up at Loki, though instead of looking surprised he seemed rather vexed. "You, a Jotun? Do not make me laugh. Jotuns are monstrous blue giants. You are neither giant nor blue!" When Loki said nothing, the blonde prince stood and walked around the couch to stand in front of the trickster. "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

Loki snapped – a foolish, impulsive mistake on his part – and lunged at Thor, knocking him to the ground and grabbing his throat. "I do not jest,  _Odinson_. I am Jotun, stripped of my heritage and made to wear this repulsive pink flesh by your dear father."

Thor easily pushed Loki off of him and pinned the smaller to the ground. The blonde wore a sneer on his face. "My father would do no such thing. He has more honor and respect than you claim of him."

Thin black eyebrows knitted themselves together in a glare, aimed directly at the Son of Odin. "Honor?  _Respect?_  Your father knows nothing of the two," Loki hissed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "He gave me as a  _gift_  to you,  _without_ my consent. He took away my magics, the only weapon I had to defend myself with. Were it not for the blood of the House of Laufey running through my veins, I would be naught but a mere mortal."

The disbelief that crossed Thor's face was priceless, though he did not let Loki up. Within moments the blonde prince's gaze hardened once more. "How will I know you do not lie to me about all of this?"

Loki almost laughed and instead just smirked. Thor may have been thick-headed, but he certainly knew when to question somebody of lying. "Why not ask your father, my prince? I am sure he would  _love_ to tell you everything." 

All was silent between them for a few moments, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and their soft breaths. Thor seemed to contemplate the idea of letting him up and finally did a minute or so later, moving stiffly towards the door. Loki was almost relieved to see him go and stared into the fire, its dancing light almost mesmerising. A memory flashed through his consciousness, one of swirling black and blue power--the power of the ice. A thought struck him and before the trickster could stop himself it was already in the air. 

"Is the Casket of Ancient Winters still in Asgard?"

He heard Thor pause in the middle of the room and nothing was said between them for what felt like an eternity. Loki was almost afraid that the blonde god would refuse though he wasn't sure why. He just needed to know. Without access to his Jotun heritage he was completely cut off from the Casket's power and it was an unsettling thought. 

"It shall be done."

Loki felt a sort of relief wash through him and didn't bother looking back at Thor as he exited the room. If the Casket was gone, then the deal was carried out and there really was no returning home for the trickster. Though somehow he knew that there was no purpose in looking, for it was already gone from Asgard's golden, gleaming halls. There really was no way for Loki to escape without his magic. Asgard was now his home, and would be until he could find out how to be freed from the wretched place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki rages because Thor is an ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait. I could give millions of excuses and all would be lies. I was honestly just too lazy to write and/or didn't want to write at all. :/  
> Updates will be unpredictable, at best once a month, give or take a few days/weeks. Or just whenever the hell I finish writing out a chapter.

Loki estimated that it had been approximately two hours since Thor had left him in his room. Of course, he had virtually no way of telling exactly how much time had passed, so he had to guess.

In Thor’s absence, Loki had discovered many interesting things about the prince from merely poking around the room. Foreign tapestries and trinkets littered the walls and shelves, most likely collected from adventures the blonde had taken part in. The wardrobe held clothing of the same color scheme – reds, silvers and blacks with some blue thrown in occasionally. Two different sets of silver armor were sitting neatly at the back of the wardrobe, polished and shining. There were a few books scattered across a depressingly empty bookshelf that looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages. Upon pulling one of the tomes into his hands for further inspection, Loki was rewarded with a face-full of dust. He read a few lines of the first page, then put it back in its spot after discovering that it was a book about the politics of ruling a kingdom. It held no interest for him.

Other than that, there wasn’t much in Thor’s chambers. Loki took a particular liking to the soft fur rugs adorning the floor in front of the fireplace. They reminded him of the ones on his bed back in Jotunheim, the pelts being so soft against his skin that he’d hardly even noticed that they were there. In his bout of nostalgia, he’d crawled onto the rug and now lay curled up on his side, gingerly rubbing his pale cheek against the fur. Loki didn’t hear the doors open, nor did he hear the footsteps drawing closer and closer to him until a voice rang out around him.

“Why are you on the floor?” came Thor’s question.

Loki didn’t move, only continued to stare at the soft glow of the embers the fire left behind. “This pelt is soft,” he stated simply. “It reminded me of home.” At that time the trickster turned his head back and blankly stared up at Thor. “Is there a problem with me being on the floor?”

Watching Thor fumble around for words was more amusing than it should have been. He obviously wasn’t used to being talked to in such a disrespectful manner, given the surprised look on his face. “Not particularly, no. However, it might be wise to sit up for the meal.”

Moments later, two servant boys came in, each holding a large silver tray in their arms adorned with all different kinds of foods. They set the trays down on the low table a foot or so away from Loki, bowed, then made their way out of the room, the doors almost slamming shut behind them. As Thor moved towards the wardrobe, Loki sat up and looked over the food, seeing many different things that he didn’t recognize. One thing in particular caught his attention – a bright red berry with a green star-looking leaf attached to the top. He’d never seen anything like it and was reaching out to grab it when Thor fell onto the couch with a soft huff. The blonde took to staring at the ceiling for a moment, then grabbed a leg of meat and tore into it.

Loki grimaced at Thor’s eating habits and gingerly bit into the berry he’d taken, eyes going wide at the flavorful juices that erupted into his mouth. It took all he had not to moan. Thor seemed to notice, however, and looked his way.

“Do they not have strawberries on Jotunheim?” he asked through a mouthful of meat, which Loki found repulsive. He answered the question nonetheless, after swallowing.

“Jotunheim is a barren and frost-covered world,” Loki stated, sounding uninterested as he finished off the strawberry and reached for another. “Nothing grows there but ice and its’ inhabitants, so there are many things on these plates I have never seen before.” He bit  into the second strawberry while his eyes roamed over the different colored foods.

Thor hummed in his throat, nodding slightly – telltale signs that the prince was bored out of his mind, yet still had enough respect to acknowledge his companion. A silence drew out between the two, though Loki could care less. Thor grew uncomfortable and shifted around on the couch frequently. In the end, he was the one to speak, clearing his throat softly.

“The Casket was no longer in the weapon’s vault,” Thor said in a hushed tone, reaching for a golden apple and a small knife.

Loki had expected no less, but the reality of it hit like a ton of bricks. Laufey had the Casket back, and he was never returning home. Worst of all, there was nothing he could do to change anything. Begging was certainly out of the question, and would only do in making him both feel and look weak. And even if that were to work, there were no doubts in Loki’s mind that he wouldn’t be welcomed back into Jotunheim. Laufey would more than likely just kill him right on the spot. No, it would be better to just remain in Asgard as the prince’s unwilling consort, rather than be put to death.

The intense feeling of eyes boring into his head pulled Loki out from his thoughts and he redirected his attention at Thor, who quickly looked down at his apple. Several chunks had been crudely cut out of it and the knife was working on another. “It is a loss, really,” Thor grumbled in between bites of apple. “I did not think that the Jotuns deserved to have it back – after all the monsters have done.”

A glare made itself known on Loki’s face, vivid green eyes narrowing dangerously. He knew it was best not to say anything and remained silent while Thor rambled on. It seemed that he’d forgotten that Loki himself was Jotun, or the oaf was just choosing to ignore that fact in favor for irritating his ‘gift’.  

“I do not understand how Father could just give the Casket back on a whim,” Thor continued, speaking around the piece of apple in his mouth. “He could have at least bartered with their king for it, rather than just _giving_ it away.” The prince grew silent as he threw the knife down on the table, where the blade embedded itself deep into the wood, and continued eating what was left of the apple.

Loki inwardly seethed. It seemed that Thor was indeed a true idiot, since he clearly couldn’t put two and two together and come up with Loki as the bartered payment for the Casket of Ancient Winters. However, it was an unfair trade. Laufey could care less about his runt of a firstborn, but Odin didn’t know that. The All-Father only saw a king trading his heir for something of seemingly equal value. It was practically thievery on Laufey’s behalf.

In an effort to hide his sudden hostility Loki reached for a round type of food, colored orange that fit snugly in his hand. He was looking it over curiously when he practically felt Thor’s gaze boring holes into his skull. A quick glance up revealed the golden prince’s smirk.

“You have become awfully quiet,” Thor all but sneered. To Loki, it sound like he was gloating, though it easily could have been his ego flaunting itself.

He turned the foreign orange fruit in his hand, taking extreme interest in the little green-brown nub at one end. “One would expect to be, had their race been offended greatly in their presence.” Loki raised his gaze up to Thor, eyebrows knitting together as if he were thinking hard about something. “I wouldn’t expect you to do so however… No, you seem to be the type to lash out mindlessly at whoever dares oppose you.”

Thor’s smirk vanished, turning into a harsh glare. “Watch your tongue, _Jotun_ , or I’ll have it removed.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked away from the prince and back down to the fruit in his hand. “You must be more clever than that, my prince, for it has already been done.” At the mention, bad memories came to the surface of Loki’s mind, making a frown cross his features. Thor seemed to notice the trickster’s sudden change in attitude and the smirk returned once more.

“So the Jotun _are_ monsters,” he said with a sound of sick satisfaction in his voice. “I had expected no less. In fact, I find it rather surprising that you weren’t _abandoned_ at birth, with how small you are, compared to others.” Loki’s nails dug into the fruit’s tough skin and he struggled to keep his composure. Thor paid no mind and ranted on. “I hear that Jotuns do not take kindly to runts, especially in the royal line. Killing them off or abandonment is what I hear. I’m surprised Laufey even kept you at all, firstborn or not.”

At that, Loki lunged. The fruit fell out of his hand and within seconds he had pinned Thor to the couch, a meat knife pressed up against his throat, teeth bared in fury.

“You will _not_ talk about us that way,” Loki hissed, pressing the knife against Thor’s skin and watching the brief moment of fear flash across his face. “We Jotuns are more noble than you Aesir will ever be. You speak so horrifically of us when _you_ are the true monsters, taking away our life source and leaving us to die. Jotunheim is broken beyond repair because of you Aesir; you and your need for dominance and power. We suffer while you live on with your fat luxurious lifestyle, uncaring as to what befalls us, and you think you have the right to call _us_ the monsters.”

At Loki’s pause to catch his breath, Thor surprisingly didn’t say anything. The prince just stared up at him with narrowed eyes, and at that moment Loki wanted nothing more than to split his skull open, or slit his throat and let the golden prince of Asgard bleed out on his own couch. Instead, he flung the knife at the nearby wall and made his way to the bathroom. Thor was right behind him and ended up getting a face-full of door. Loki quickly locked it.

Thor banged on the wooden surface, voice ringing out and sounding irritated.. “What are you doing?”

Loki sighed. “Bathing, you idiot. Leave me be.”  A few seconds later and the thumping on the door had ceased, the sound of another door being slammed shut reaching his ears. Another few seconds and all was silent. With another sigh Loki stepped up next to the overly-large bath and started filling it with only mildly warm water.

\-----

The prince was angry, judging just from the sudden storm clouds gathering in the sky. It soon started to rain, then was joined by brief flashes of lightning and the booming of thunder that shook the entire palace.

Thor was currently storming through the  golden halls with no specific destination in mind. He went wherever his feet took him and ended up trudging out into his mother’s garden, completely disregarding the rain as if it weren’t even there, though he still took up shelter underneath a smallish stone gazebo. Vines twisted and crawled up along the pillars and across the dome of the structure, soft blue flowers blossoming here and there while others closed their petals to the unforgiving weather. Thor had always come here as a child, no matter what mood he was in.

It was where he came to cool down, and his mother was always there, even if she had to wake up and dress in the middle of the night. This moment was no different. She soon came striding out into the garden, looking as regal and graceful as ever. She always sat next to Thor on the bench under the stone dome and always helped him clear his head.

“What bothers you now, my child?” she asked in a soft tone, gently placing her hand on Thor’s knee as she had always done.

Thor couldn’t answer for a moment – didn’t know what to say. The words eventually came to him, though, in a tone just as quiet as his mother’s. “Loki is infuriating, and I believe I may have upset him.”

Frigga was not surprised by this. Thor always had a bad way with both words and actions alike. Loki wasn’t the first to have been angered by her son. “Tell me what happened.”

There was a brief moment where Thor said nothing before finally speaking in a guilty tone. “I have insulted Loki’s home realm to his face, saying that the Jotun are monsters… But then he said that we Aesir are the monsters, because we idly sit back and watch as Jotunheim falls apart and her people die with her.” Thor frowned deeply and ran a hand through his rain-dampened hair, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Does he tell of truths, Mother?”

The queen smiled sadly and nodded. “I regret to say that he does. But they have their Casket back now; all will be well in due time.”

Thor imitated his mother’s nod and once again ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “I have upset him though,” he said in a soft, guilty tone. “I do not think that begging for forgiveness will accomplish much.”

To this Frigga smiled, drawing her shawl in tighter to her torso. “I believe that the best way to ask Loki’s forgiveness is to take the same action as you would towards a lady.”

Thor looked up with a confused frown marring his features. “And what would that be?”

His mother giggled, something Thor had never seen her do before. But within a few seconds her usual soft smile was back in place. “Gifts, my son. A lady that has been wronged or offended by a man will only allow forgiveness if a gift is given along with it. But it must be something of personal value; something that the lady enjoys, or else it is just another useless item.”

It was surprising to see Thor paying attention to what Frigga was saying. He usually tuned things out when it came to a subject he didn’t much care about, but this seemed to be the exception. He nodded and knelt in front of the queen, taking her hands into his.

“Thank you for the advice, mother,” he said with a smile, then leaned up and kissed her cheek before practically dashing back into the palace. The storm had passed, and Thor knew just what to give Loki.

\-----

Three hours had passed since Thor had left, and Loki was just barely climbing out of the tub with bright red skin. He had foolishly thought that perhaps if he scrubbed hard enough, the familiar Jotun blue would replace his repulsively pink Aesir flesh. Instead he just came out looking as red as his eyes should have been.

The idea of wearing the same clothes as before wasn’t appealing to Loki but it was either that or go naked, so he simply just slipped into the trousers and tossed the rest in a pile by the door to be cleaned later. He wanted to linger for a while longer in the bathroom but a knock at the door interrupted his plans.

When Loki opened it Thor stood there with a large fur blanket in his hands, folded and neatly tied up with a shining blue bow. He looked nervous, and he was shifting from foot to foot. Loki just arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his bare chest.

Thor wasn’t sure what to say, so he just held the blanket out to Loki and bowed his head. “I apologize for what I said earlier and I hope to be forgiven.” It all came out on one breath, practically just a jumble of words that Loki almost didn’t understand. Still, he tentatively reached forward and took the blanket from Thor, slightly surprised at how soft it was – just like the rug in front of the fireplace, or the furs in his room back in Jotunheim. What surprised him even more was the fact that the pelt was that of a species of hound native only to Jotunheim’s mountains.

“Where did you get this?” Loki asked softly, untying the bow and letting it fall to the floor while he carefully examined the fur. Sure enough, there was the characteristic blue tint to the base of the grey and black hairs. He looked up at Thor expectantly.

The prince shifted around more, and as his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, Loki caught sight of a smudge of dark blue on the heel of Thor’s palm – the hound’s blood. The trickster cleared his throat and Thor looked sheepish for a moment.

“Mother said it was… Customary to bring a gift to those who deserved an apology; that it had to be personal to the one receiving it.” Thor spoke slowly, as if he were choosing his words great care. “You seemed to like the rug, so I asked one of the scholars about soft pelts from Jotunheim. He suggested that of a large hound only found on your… Home realm. So…” He paused and drew in a deep breath and started rubbing at the blue stain on his hand. “I traveled there with my friends and slayed one for you… We kept the pelt but gave the meat to some Jotuns so it would not go to waste.”

Upon catching sight of Loki’s face Thor automatically felt like he’d done something wrong. “The uhm… The scholar said it was alright to slay one, but only with an ice blade, and we were lucky that Hogun has basic knowledge of sorcery so he was the one that… Finished it.”

All was silent for a few tense seconds before Loki was smiling; smiling and pressing the pelt up to his face, reveling in the softness of it and the crisp scent of ice. His eyes darted up to meet Thor’s, the prince wearing a look of relief and was smiling softly as well.

“Thank you,” Loki muttered through the blanket. He unfolded it and draped it over his shoulders, finding it to be big enough to wrap it around his entire body and still have excess dragging on the floor. The sound of Thor chuckling rang out around them and Loki threw him a questioning look.

“You look so much smaller, wrapped up like that.” Thor had almost instantly regretted mentioning Loki’s stature but the trickster just laughed along with him.

“I imagine so. However…” Loki stepped forward and planted a light kiss to Thor’s cheek, steering clear of his beard. “Sometimes being small is the only way to win. So… I forgive you.” That being said he made his way around Thor and over to the larger-than-necessary bed, crawling onto it and curling up underneath the pelt – only a mess of black hair showing. Thor could only laugh.

After slipping off his armor, shirt and boots he followed Loki into the bed, laying his head on the pillow and watching the pile of fur slowly rise and fall with the deep breaths of sleep. It was only then that Thor realized how utterly exhausted he was, and soon followed Loki into the grasp of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I very highly doubt that there is such thing as the beast described here. I honestly just made it up, pleasedon'thurtme.


End file.
